Hey-o, hey-o, hey! Yeah, can you tell I got nothing, friends? Nothing much crackling right now, this Friday afternoon. However, the weekend? I’m not really sure! As I mentioned earlier this week, my anniversary is on Saturday. But, Sam has a busy weekend of yoga training, and I’ve got an inclination to celebrate it during more placid times. So, where does that leave me? Probably gaming, reading, and stroking!
In other words, business as usual. Which is okay. Which is okay! I mean, right? It’s gotta be okay, because it’s gotta be this way.
The Universe, as expressed through time, don’t give two tugs of Fate’s tits about us, my friend. And in some ways, that’s pretty fucking freeing. Lord knows, we’re fucking it up down here with an alacrity and casualness that would definitely piss off most religion’s Gods. But, they don’t exist and we’re alone, and the Universe is just humming along. Indifferent, but wonderful. Detached, but in a sort of measured, comforting manner.
Anyways, the whole reason I started babbling about existence, the Cosmos not even mustering a shrug at humanity, and all this happy horseshit is thus: I’m celebrating my five-year anniversary on Saturday. What the absolute fuck, how the absolute fuck have five years passed already?
In many ways, 2015 was a severe mid-series reboot of my existence. To the extent that, while I don’t regret any of the choices, I would never stack such changes on top of one another so quickly. In the span of three months I got married, bought a house, and got a dog.
There was a moment that autumn where I asked myself, “Who the fuck am I? And what the fuck am I doing?” in a sort of feverish worry.
But, now it’s difficult to picture myself not living with my wife, walking my dog, or fondly returning to my small house. Which is an overly opaque way of saying I enjoy my life, and I find myself smiling now at the chaos. Perhaps that’s the goal, to be able to come out the other side of the Tumult, and be able to smile at it.
Who knows. I’m bloviating, per usual.
Only tangentially related to that saccharine blast of textual diarrhea is this here column, Monday Morning Commute! Or, maybe I’m just being disingenuous. ‘Cause when I think of what I enjoy most in my life, spending time here and on Twitch with the rest of the OL community is high on the list.
So my dudes, let’s hang out. Shoot the shit about what we’re getting into this week.
I’ll go first!
Hey, friends! We’ve come out the other side of another week. And, it feels good! Lots of bullshit and miscellany peppering my tits this week! Planning for a summer class that has almost no form or guidance from above. The inexorable pain of not being able to take a crap, because I’m so fucking stressed. But, hey, whatever, the fucking week is over! I have my health, my job (for now), and Dulcolax!
Perhaps most importantly, I got this fucking community! And, I hope you’ll spend some time with me this weekend.
Let me know!
As the pandemic drones dully onward, what are you up to this weekend? To combat the ennui? To stave of the dreadful sense of perpetuity this whole ordeal is taking on? Are you going for a hike in the nice weather? Doing jackknifes into your pool? Lathering your nipples in sunscreen and sprinting through Target, screaming (while wearing a mask, obviously)?
It’s all fodder for fascinating conversation here at the Open Bar!
I’m on vacation, but fuck I’m awful at enjoying it. Nothing says “I’m fucking crushing this relaxing thing” like waking up at 9:30 this morning, veins white-hot with irrational anxiety. But! I’m happy to say I have rallied since then. Took a two-mile walk, exercised a bit. Sucked in the rays from the Central Engine, and felt my rectum loosen just a bit. Just–a-bit. However, that’s better than nothing, right? And folks, good news.
I’m asking you to help loosen my rectum even further. That’s right, that’s right! Pull up a chair, and shoot the shit with me. Tell me what you’re looking forward to this week, and watch in glee-and-horror as the ole o-ring relaxes to a healthy sort of dour droop. I don’t ask for much, but I’m asking for this. Let us imbibe in the sweetened, honeyed nectar of community, together. And share in the experience of watching as he gets me where I need to be.
This is Monday Morning Commute.
My, oh fucking my!
It’s the end of the week, friends! It’s the end of the semester, friends! And, it’s a long weekend friends! Praise JCVD, my friends! The All-Father has delivered me to the end of the weird, wild, awful online semester, and I’m stoked.
As well, I found out that due to budgetary problems — if you don’t know this yet, COVID-19 has lit higher education on fire — I can’t begin summer tutoring until June 1. So, not only is it a long weekend, but I’m fucking off until June 3.
My, oh fucking my!
I slept like a motherfucker Friday evening, friends. Or should I say, about 3 am on Saturday morning until 11:30 or so. By God, could I finally be relaxing? I mean, I ain’t been sleeping at all during this Rolling Nightmare. But, I think with the semester ending and myself accepting the homeostasis of such, I’m relaxing a bit. Fuck, I hope so! Maybe it’s a one-off, but I’m hoping for an emergent theme.
Anyways, I’m hanging in there. Can’t really complain, all things considered. Got my (physical) health, a tenuous grasp on my (mental) health, and I enjoy hanging out with you little fuckers.
You know the goddamn drill with this column, you really do! Unless you’ve just stumbled across this Monument to Madness! In which case, I’ll let you know. This is Monday Morning Commute! Every week, us depraved denizens of the Space-Ship gather! Then, we shoot the shit about what we’re up to on a given week. The books we’re reading! The genitals we’re manipulating! The games we’re playing. Anything and everything!
And per usual, I’ll go first.
Okay! Last night, I started The Stand. And I must confess, I put in my longest single-sitting reading session in a long, long time. Of course, that’s not counting school-related bullshit. I’m currently 63 pages in, which translates to only 1/20th of the fucking tome.
That said? I’m fucking enjoying it.
As I’ve intimated here before, I’m always down for a good-plague based Apocalypse.
Hard not to feel nostalgic, when the Planet is shuddered, and there’s nowhere to go, right? Also, hard not to feel nostalgic when I’m currently dong-deep in Final Fantasy 7 and classic horror movies, right? Anyways, I’m feel nostalgic as fuck, and old to boot. Nothing gets you thinking of the past like salivating over the remake of your favorite game of all time, and feeling the gravel in your elbows shift every time you try to do a tricep press.
Anyhoo, enough about my lachrymal, romanticized peering into my past! I’m stoked to spend the present with you folks, right here! In the latest edition of Monday Morning Commute! You know, the weekly gathering where we, uh, gather, and share what we’re up to!
I’ll go first, but lord, oh lord, I hope you’ll join me in the comments section!
Hello, comrades! How the fuck you doing? Hope you’re hanging in there. Cracking the malaise with whatever sort of healthy mallet you wield these days. Be it movies, or video games, or some glorious bouts of paper-based hallucinations (books). I’m up and down these days. The days themselves, they feel so fucking long. The weeks themselves, they feel so fucking short. I’m not certain this is a fair trade, or if it balances it.
But, last night there was a glorious dusk. And in that moment, due to my good fortune, privilege, and health, it was a Hell of a Day to Be Alive.
And, today begins the weekend! Which means it’s time for the Open Bar!
Talking Heads lyrics fucking speaking to me today, man. How is life during the pandemic, this week? Same as it ever was. Alternatively, the title of the song those lyrics are from is also apropos. Once in a lifetime. ‘Cause fuck me, if we have to live through this goddamn trash a second time. And okay, I’m not counting some sort of recurrent wave that’s indubitably hitting this fall. I mean, like — when it’s done.
Another week has passed. Nothing has changed, at least for the better. More morons outside. Increasing death rates, increasing infection rates. Extending stay-at-home orders in my state. The mundanity and the madness trudges forward.
Same as it ever was. Same as it will be.
However, it ain’t all bad news, motherfuckers! Nope! Nope. In fact, yesterday I recorded my final “virtual” classes for my students. All that stands between the end of the semester and me is two weeks of grading, and Zoom sessions. Not bad. Not bad at all.
I have to say, I guess I’m not depressed today, though! Small victories. Day by day. How do I know? Well, I’m actually stoked for shit. And, I’d like to tell you what I’m stoked for, friends!
This is Monday Morning Commute!